


divine hell

by mnemememory



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:27:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23903077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mnemememory/pseuds/mnemememory
Summary: “My wife, Zuala,” she says, and the words burn holy on her tongue.(yasha is flying when she marries zuala)
Relationships: Mollymauk Tealeaf & Yasha, The Mighty Nein & Yasha, Yasha/Zuala (Critical Role)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 66





	divine hell

...

...

**divine hell**

...

...

Yasha is flying when she marries Zuala.

She’s got heat in her lungs and a pressure in her chest and she’s never going to recover from this, doesn’t want to recover from this. Zuala kisses her like they’re both drowning. Yasha wraps her arms around her shoulders and pulls her close, until there’s no space left between them, until Zuala’s ribcage is digging sharp and bloody into Yasha’s stomach.

They’re not going to get away with this.

Fuck, Yasha loves her so much.

It _hurts_ , the descent, because of course it does. Something rips from Yasha’s spine and she’s lying, wounded and wet on the ground while they take her wife away. There’s a decision in this, in Zuala’s defiant eyes, in the angry twist of her lips. Zuala looks back and says, _run_ , and Yasha listens to her. Yasha has always listened to her. Her body moves before her mind can scream.

(She wakes up with blood and ash settled heavy on her skin, weighting her down, tying her to the ground).

For the rest of the world, Yasha walks.

Yasha walks on bare feet, blisters turning thick and calloused. She’s got a storm stuck in her throat, lightning thick in her veins, wind howling wild in her cavernous chest. Sometimes she has weapons, often they break. She kills anything in her way.

Yasha walks so far she doesn’t realise she’s left Xhorhas until she’s blinking bright into a daylight with no end. Then she keeps walking, because what’s one country to another? What’s one cemetery to an endless field of swampland? Zuala didn’t get a tombstone. Yasha won’t either.

She walks. And walks. And there’s dust, and there’s blood, and she walks right into a purple tiefling with a smile just as empty as her own.

(That’s how it starts, anyway).

Mollymauk Tealeaf is the worst thing to ever happen to her, in that he is kind.

Yasha is staying with Gustav and Ornna and the twins because she’s tired of being hungry, but it isn’t going to last long. Just until the next town (that’s what she tells herself), just until she’s marked her way across the country and knows her way around (that’s what she tells herself). Yasha is a good bouncer, and a better deterrent. What she’s not good at is doing anything with style.

They find him, naked and covered in dirt and alone. So alone.

Yasha is so alone, too.

That’s how it _starts_ – let’s be alone together, Mollymauk says, when he’s got the words. Yasha doesn’t like it, but she agrees. She thinks about Zuala and she thinks about the Sky Spear and she thinks about the lifeless swampland that is now soaked in blood. There are memories Yasha doesn’t have, doesn’t want to have. Molly understands.

He lets her go, when the pull becomes too great, when the lure of an empty road digs too deep under her skin. She follows the Stormlord and does not expect to return the first time, or the second, or the third. Every time, Molly greets her as though he never expected anything less.

“Don’t make me do this,” Yasha whispers to the sky, when the stars burn bright beside the moon and the campground is silent and dead behind her. She’s a different thing than the one Zuala loved, a little less whole, a lot more scared. She’s learned about flowers. There are so many flowers. “Don’t make me do this without you.”

Zuala doesn’t answer, because Zuala is dead.

Yasha goes back to the tent she shares with Molly with vomit scalding acidic down her throat. She’s used to this, she tells herself. She’s used to this. This is no young hurt, where the skin is still raw (it will always be raw) – this is something she has lived with for years. Why stop now?

Someone dies.

That’s how Yasha’s life ends and begins, always forever – someone dies, and it isn’t her.

The Mighty Nein are the second worst thing to ever happen to her before they even become the Mighty Nein. Molly is awful in his understanding, but these people – they are awful in so many different ways.

Jester is sweet. She is sweet, and she is lovely, and Yasha gave her a pinkie promise and now they are “best friends” and she doesn’t know what to _do with that_. What is she supposed to do with that? Say no? Is she _allowed_ to say no? Yasha has so many questions.

Fjord is suave and sure of himself and also a little bit of an idiot. He’s got a sword that rips a hole in the world and no knowledge of how to use it. It’s almost funny.

Nott the Brave and her companion, Caleb Widogast the frightened wizard – here are people Zuala would have _hated_. Truly and surely, Zuala would have said they were “suspicious” and “sketchy” and “up to no good”. Maybe that’s why Yasha likes them so much. Maybe it’s because they’re so obviously running from something, too.

Beau is –

Beau is –

Yasha doesn’t know what Beau is, but she _definitely_ doesn’t want anything bad to happen to her. Ever. At all.

(Later – so very much later – Caduceus is soft, and cruel, and everything Yasha has never wanted.

Somehow, she ends up liking him anyway. The bastard).

Yasha has been flying and falling her whole life. She dreams of wings and chains. She dreams of so many things.

_My angel_ , Zuala said, snuggled up to her side. It’s dark. It’s dark, and they’re alone, and nothing bad can ever happen when they’re together. _My avenging angel_.

Yasha bleeds red when she crashes to the ground. ‘Divine’ is not the last words on the lips of her victims – most of the time they just scream.

“My wife, Zuala,” she says, and the words burn holy on her tongue.

There are so many things Yasha has wished she could say. She can’t, though – every time she tries, they overwhelm her. _Goodbye_ forms stilted, awkward, impersonal.

It never used to be like this.

**Author's Note:**

> well, you guys asked for more yasha angst, and who am I to deny you?
> 
> (sorry I haven't been posting much of anything, I'm essential so I'm working five days a week ahahaha I'm so tired)


End file.
